Kisses Sweeter Than Wine
by Hot elf
Summary: Fenris and Isabela messing around in the wine cellar of Danarius' mansion. Set about a year before "Worlds Apart". Enjoy!


**Kisses Sweeter Than Wine**

Varric had invited them all to his suite for an evening of cards and companionship, and Isabela had been only too glad to accept. There was only so much time she could spend at the bar without getting harassed by drunken sailors and mercenaries, and while she quite enjoyed putting the ruffians in their place, this was a nice change.

Fiona was there, chatting happily with Anders, while Fenris was focused wholly on his cards, determined to win, as usual. When Nora knocked to ask them for their last order, Fiona signaled for another mug of ale.

"Honestly, Hawke, you're such a Fereldan sometimes." Varric grinned at her. "Ale, cheese, sausages. I bet you've never even tried a glass of wine."

"I have!" Fiona protested with a pout. "I just don't like wine all that much."

"That's because you have never had anything that deserves the name." Fenris' deep voice was scathing. "The stuff they serve here at the Hanged Man is only good for cleaning silver."

Fiona glanced at him in surprise. "So you think I should try something better?"

"Of course you should." Fenris flashed her a brief smile. "I am sure you would learn to appreciate it."

Isabela watched the two of them carefully. It seemed Fenris had finally learnt to smile again. She remembered - only too well - the morning a few months ago when Fiona had knocked at her door with a sad look in her eyes and confessed how disastrously their night together had ended. Ever since that day, Fenris had seemed so unhappy, so broken that it had been painful to watch.

Yet, much as she enjoyed seeing that tentative smile on his lips, Isabela was worried. Fiona had been adamant that it was over between them. _If Fenris can't deal with my being a mage, there is nothing I can do about it, Bela._ Now, however, it seemed he was getting his hopes up again. Isabela mentally shook her head. This could only end in pain, and for reasons she was careful not to analyze too much, she didn't want to see him get hurt again.

With a purr, she leaned down over his shoulder, letting her breasts brush against his arm. "I'm sure you're right, Fen. Listen, why don't you arrange a little wine tasting for all of us? Didn't you say Danarius' cellar was well stocked?"

Fenris hesitated, visibly uncomfortable at being the centre of attention. "He left a decent selection behind, it's true."

"Rivaini, let me kiss you." Varric's voice boomed all through the room. "That is the best idea you've had in years. Come on, Broody. This will be fun."

Fenris bit his lip, his eyes searching Fiona's face for approval.

She smiled at him. "Would you do this for us, Fenris? I think I'd enjoy it very much."

Fenris nodded, still unable to tear his eyes from her face.

_Damn it, Hawke, if you don't want him, leave him alone! _It took all Isabela's control not to grab the other woman by the shoulders and shake her.

"Then it's settled. We'll all be there." Fiona beamed at Varric. "I bet Merrill could profit from a little education as well."

* * *

They met at Fenris' mansion two nights later. Merrill was there, and Aveline had been eager to join them too. Her father had been somewhat of a connoisseur of wines, and her face took on a nostalgic expression at the thought of a proper wine tasting. Donnic was just as enthusiastic.

Only Anders had refused to come. "Justice doesn't approve of spirits. Besides, I'm sure the elf doesn't want yet another mage there to spoil his evening."

Fenris was visibly nervous, but he was also well prepared, starting the tasting off with several light, fruity white wines before moving on to heavier, meatier reds. His whole demeanor had changed, Isabela noticed, far more relaxed and confident than usual. Whether this was due to the amount of wine he consumed during the course of the evening or to the unfamiliar experience of being the one in the know, she couldn't say. Maybe both. But he was gorgeous like this, vibrant and alive, his eyes flashing with passion, and even his posture straightening noticeably.

Isabela couldn't keep her eyes off him. Fiona, however, didn't seem to notice, or maybe she just pretended not to, keeping a careful distance. More than once, when Fenris tried to catch her eye, she turned away and chatted to Varric instead, and every time she did this, resignation dulled the light in his eyes. Isabela almost hated her friend for it, though, in all fairness, she had to admit it wasn't Fiona's fault if Fenris chose to torment himself.

The first few bottles were emptied sooner than expected and Fenris got up to get more from the cellar.

"Let me come along. You'll need help with all those bottles." Isabela was on her feet in a flash.

He nodded absently, and they made their way down the stairs. The cellar was cool and slightly damp and Isabela shivered in her thin tunic. Fenris threw her a quick look and darted up the stairs again, returning with a thin woollen blanket he spread over her shoulders.

"Here. You don't want to catch a chill." His tone was considerate, almost tender.

"Thank you." She followed him deeper into the cellar.

Most of it was taken up by stacked wine shelves, lots and lots of them, filled with dusty bottles. But there was also a large oaken table, right in the middle of the biggest room, with a few chairs arranged around it and a big lantern hung above it. On a shelf next to it, there were several glasses and decanters as well as a stack of candles.

"For the butler, to prepare the wine according to his master's wishes," Fenris explained with a quick, sideways glance at her.

Isabela picked up a large, crystal decanter and sniffed inside. There was the faintest echo of an aroma, acrid and no longer altogether pleasant. "You know, I've always wondered... Why do people bother with those? Why not just drink the wine from the bottle?"

Fenris shook his head. "There are some wines... older, heavier wines, Nevarran reds and the like... They need to breathe before you can drink them. Straight from the bottle you only get half the taste. But leave them out in a decanter for an hour or so and they open up like a flower in the morning when it's kissed by the sun."

Isabela laughed. "Why, Fen, you're getting downright poetic here!"

He blushed, but then he raised his chin, determined to make her understand. "Trying those wines... it was one of the few pleasures I had in Danarius' house. It's an art, choosing the right wine for each occasion, for each person. There's so much you have to take into account, their mood, their personality, their habits. And of course the food, if you pick a wine to go with dinner."

She listened attentively, watching his face grow animated as he explained. "You know, this is actually quite fascinating. What kind of wine would you pick for me?"

"You?" Fenris' gaze travelled all over her, intense and searching.

His scrutiny almost made her uncomfortable, until he began to speak, haltingly at first, but then with more confidence. "Red wine, I think. Something rich and spicy... not too sweet, a bit tart. Sensuous and smooth, yet complex. Oh, I know!"

Isabela drank in his words, her eyes glued to his lips. Just listening to his voice, hearing the epithets he assigned to her, made her grow all hot and tingly inside. And now he was rummaging in the shelves, offering her a lovely view of his backside in his favoured tight leggings.

"Here." He turned back to face her, a slim elegant bottle in his hands. "This one is from Antiva. It should suit you perfectly."

Fenris carefully uncorked the bottle with his gauntlets, then put them aside as he poured her a glass. The wine was a brilliant red, and when he held it up to the lantern, ruby reflexes were playing within the depths of the glass.

"Look." His voice was hypnotic. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Isabela watched him breathe in the aroma of the wine, then take a sip and swirl it around his tongue. _Maker, I want to be that wine!_ A small drop was trailing down his chin and she wanted to _lick_ it off, to kiss it away, to-

"Try it." He seemed satisfied by the taste and passed her the glass. "It would be better to wait a while but-"

She took a deep draught, her eyes widening when the liquid hit her taste buds. The wine was everything he had promised, and more. Opulent and bold, caressing her tongue, lush and smooth like velvet, with the tiniest hint of chocolate in the back of her throat as she swallowed.

Fenris chuckled when he saw her expression. "Well?"

"It's wonderful!" She smiled at him, but then her expression turned mischievous. "Antivan, you say? You know, my old friend Zevran, he's from Antiva. He used to say..."

She sat down on the edge of the table, stretching her long legs. "He used to say that even the best wine tasted better straight from a beautiful woman's body."

Fenris snorted. "I doubt Danarius would agree with that sentiment."

Isabela leant back on her outstretched arms, her magnificent breasts displayed to best advantage and slowly licked her lips. "What about you, though?"

For a moment she held her breath. He had resisted all her attempts at flirtation so far, the subtle hints as well as the more direct approaches. Now he went very still, his face unreadable. She hardly dared breathe, afraid he would retreat into his shell again.

But then she heard him chuckle, low in his throat. "I might be persuaded to give it a try."

She held his gaze as she untied her tunic, slowly and languorously, baring her midriff. He gave no sign of interest, except for a slight widening of his eyes, a subtle quickening of his breath. But when she lay back with a wicked smile and poured a few drops of the wine on her belly, he was on her in a flash.

Strong hands held her down while his tongue dipped inside her bellybutton, lapping up the wine, hot and greedy. Isabela didn't bother to hold back her moan.

"I was right. Spicy..." His hands moved up, pushing her tunic to the side, and were suddenly on her breasts, cupping them firmly, his thumbs circling her erect nipples. "And sensuous. Just like you."

Fenris was thorough, chasing every last drop with his tongue. By the time he had finished, her patience had worn thin. She wove her hands through his silky hair and pushed him firmly down.

Another low chuckle, and he hooked his fingers into her smalls, pulling them off and exposing her to him. He pushed her back until she lay flat on her back on the blanket, then drew one of the chairs closer so he could sit down between her legs, his face at the perfect height to pleasure her.

When his tongue delved deep inside her, Isabela cried out hoarsely, her hips bucking up. "Maker, Fenris!"

He ignored her, just kept lapping, nibbling, sucking at her, with a greed that chased all conscious thought from her mind. His fingers were still playing with her nipples while his tongue painted fiery patterns all over her sex, making her scramble for purchase on the rough wood of the table. She was so wet, so ready, she was _aching_ for him and still he went on until her whispered pleas turned to incoherent whimpers. When he finally surged up to kiss her and she tasted her own arousal on his lips, mingled with the wine, she almost blacked out for a moment.

Her hands raced down his body to the pronounced bulge in his leggings, quickly dealing with the laces. He was hard enough to almost burst out of the leather, his cock eagerly springing into her hands. His stifled groan when she ran her hands along the length of him went straight to her core. _Sweet Maker, I want him! _

They didn't bother undressing. She was still in her boots, her tunic gaping open, her smalls disappeared somewhere on the floor, and he kept on most of his armour. This would be quick and hard, and the mere thought made Isabela whine softly. He heard her and his eyes darkened further. Without further ado, he aligned himself and pushed inside her in one smooth move.

She had always known it would be good with him, all that pent-up intensity finally set free, that lovely body finally hers to touch, his lips and teeth nipping at her skin with such abandon. He needed only a little help to find the perfect angle, and then he was thrusting inside her, making her shudder with every long, deep stroke, making her come totally undone.

When his movements became jerkier, she grabbed his hand and guided it between her legs, showing him just how she liked to be touched. He was a quick study, his nimble fingers playing her with exquisite dexterity until her muscles began to contract around him, the sensation made so much more delicious by his hard length filling her. Her climax came with a suddenness that contrasted sharply with the long, sweet build-up. One moment she was pulsing with need, the next a fire burst through her, white-hot and searing, right down to her toes and fingertips.

There was a brief flash of triumph on his features before his expression changed to something altogether more intense and focussed. Isabela pushed back hard against him, taking him through his last, almost frantic thrusts. His head flew back on the last stroke, his whole body quivering, his markings flaring for a mere fracture of a second. _So beautiful!_

She had only a few moments of enjoying his weight on top of her, his heat against her body before he pulled back with a sigh of regret. They quickly got dressed again and made their way up the stairs, armed with more wine, quickly grabbed from the shelves. She had expected curious looks and pointed remarks, but everyone was far too wrapped up in their conversations to even have noticed their prolonged absence. Fenris looked relieved, busying himself with pouring more wine, making up fanciful reasons why he had chosen each particular bottle.

Isabela waited patiently, biding her time until one by one the others started to yawn and drift off. Fiona left late, more than just a little tipsy, and Varric offered to take her home. When everyone else was gone, Fenris looked tired but at the same time almost happy.

She walked over to him and breathed a kiss against his cheek. "Thank you, Fen. It was a wonderful evening. Especially our... adventure in the cellar, even if it was a little rushed. I might have to come back for more lessons about wine some day."

He fixed her with his green eyes, one arm reaching out around her waist to pull her close. "Or you could stay."

His voice was rough, maybe from all the talking, maybe for a different reason altogether, and Isabela enjoyed the pleasant shudder travelling along her spine.

"Or I could stay," she agreed.

* * *

_Hugs and thanks to zevgirl.  
_


End file.
